A Star is Born
by orcotp
Summary: A different take on Orcs


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What Would Jesus Do:  
  
A Love Story  
  
Maggotface, at the relative age of six was, by anyone's definition, the very model of what an Orc should be. His eyes were a vomit-inducing yellow, his stray patches of matted hair verged on luminescent, and his pus-filled humps had just a little more pus than anyone else's. He was also unusually intelligent for an Orc--he could do some basic figures and, with a bit of time and effort, could occasionally puzzle out a sentence. Still, he wasn't nearly as intelligent as, say, a piece of rotting meat, and thus, as did most Orcs, preferred picture books.   
  
Maggotface (Maggie to his friends) was the greatgrandspawn of Putridarm, the first Orc to manage the use of simple machines and the oldest Orc alive, at the ripe old relative age of eighty-two. Putridarm was nonetheless a doting greatgrandOrc.   
  
One day, Putridarm was out brutally murdering the dwarves, because Maggie and Putridarm lived in the USSR and everyone knows that the dwarves are Mensheviks. Putridarm had a cushy government job that he really rather enjoyed. While ransacking the mountains, he came across a book with several diagrams, which he resolved to give to Maggie, knowing his greatgrandspawn's fondness for picture books.  
  
The book turned out to be a rather slanderous piece of literature, consisting largely of the Dwarves calling the Elves fags and the Elves calling the Dwarves pussies and the Men rather pointedly fucking their wives while the Hobbits watched. This type of literature was rather illegal, and almost certainly Menshevik propaganda, but Putridarm could not actually read and therefore cannot be held accountable.  
  
So Maggie, being significantly below the age of consent, read this propaganda arduously and didn't think of it again for years (aside from a vague awareness that he had been sexualized at too young an age), until he realized that there weren't actually any female Orcs.   
  
Being a rather sturdy young Orc, he was at this point raping more than being raped, so he came out one night over a nice dinner of roast dwarf intestines.  
  
"Look, GreatgrandOrc Putridarm, I think I might be gay." Maggie, despite his rough, pustule ridden exterior, was actually rather sensitive, and had angsted over this for months. (He had tried to repress his gay-ness for a while by fucking girls, but he hadn't actually been able to find any girls, so he gave up on that rather quickly.)   
  
Putridarm grunted and tore at his dinner with sharp, yellowed teeth. Teeth stored in mouth covered in cold sores, that looked, Maggie thought in passing, absolutely luscious.  
  
"No, look, really, I am. And, I want you to know that, I--I'm proud of who I am. I want to start a Gay/Pervy Hobbit Fancier Alliance."  
  
Putridarm grunted again and chewed his meat. He studied his greatgrandspawn calmly, trying to figure out what the issue here was, because really, no female Orcs. (Orcs are not bright enough to realize that females are required for procreation, so the males just kept on procreating among themselves.)  
  
"And this is my boyfriend, Liverass." Maggie pulled another Orc out from under the table. "We're madly, deeply in love. Aren't we, baby?"  
  
Liverass nodded, then sort of wandered off after eating the remainder of the dwarf intestines. Maggie was heartbroken, and swore off Orcs for at least the next three weeks.  
  
Except really, he was horny, so he wandered off into what he knew full well was Hobbit territory, looking for a nice tree to jack him off. Tom Bombadil, he had heard, was always up for a fuck, no strings (or intestines) attached.  
  
So Maggie and Tom made out for a while, and then Maggie headed back home. But Mordor is really quite a ways from the Shire, even though they are both in the USSR, and just as Maggie was on the final leg of his journey, he collapsed from exhaustion. Shortly thereafter, some hobbits wandered past.  
  
"By George, Mr. Frodo, we've been walking an awfully long time."  
  
"Aye, Sam, we have."  
  
"You know, Mr. Frodo, if we die out here, I'll die a virgin," said Sam, looking rather pointedly at Frodo  
  
Frodo looked vaguely uncomfortable with the choice of topic.  
  
"Fat hobbitses is too ugly to pop their cherries, yesss, none of the pretty girlie hobbitses want to suck their cockses," said Gollum. "Even poor Smeagol is getting fuckeded regularly, but not the fat hobbitses, no."  
  
"..." said Sam, looking at Frodo. Frodo avoided his gaze.  
  
"Well fine then!" shouted Sam, "I'll just have to fuck this dead Orc here, won't I?"  
  
And he fucked Maggie while Frodo and Gollum pretended not to get off on it.  
  
A week later, when Maggie woke up, his body having consumed its own pus to keep him alive, he found himself pregnant. He hurried home to Putridarm, and fell into his arms, sobbing.   
  
"I-I'm pregnant," he cried, "and I don't even know how it happened! How will I support my baby? I haven't even finished basic weapons training!"  
  
"That's alright, sweetcheeks," said Putridarm, "I'll pretend to be the baby's father. We'll support him with the money from my cushy government job. And if that's not enough, we can always whore him out later."  
  
"You think of everything, GreatgrandOrc, how can I ever repay you?"  
  
"Well," said Putridarm with a leer, "we'll have to fuck to make it convincing."  
  
Maggie gasped in shock, then, thinking it over, gazed shyly up into his greatgrandOrc's eyes, slowly, tentatively moving his hands down through Putridarm's bloodstained loincloth to clutch his throbbing, wart-covered cock. Putridarm hissed in pleasure as Maggie stroked, whispering sweet nothings all the while.  
  
The older Orc urged his young protégé down, and whimpering as Maggie took him into his mouth, careful to cover ragged teeth, and deep throated him. Maggie swallowed three long spurts of Putridarm's come, a heady mixture of blood, pus, and semen. Putridarm sagged against a wall, sated, and Maggotface slithered up to meet him for a kiss.   
  
"You taste of decaying flesh," he murmured against his lover's lips, "decaying flesh garnished with newly ripened peaches."  
  
Putridarm sighed contentedly and, already hardening again, partially because of the malignant tumor in his cock, pushed Maggie to the ground, belly down, and lowered himself to all threes (having lost one arm in battle), drawing his serpent-like tongue along Maggie's back, slowing to savor festering wounds.   
  
Maggie arched into his touch and Putridarm quickened his pace, bringing his tongue down to circle Maggie's hole before taking a pair of gargantuan balls into his mouth. Maggie moaned, and Putridarm abandoned his ministrations, returning to poke his serpentile tongue in and out of Maggie's magnificent, irregularly shaped ass.   
  
"You taste," he whispered in return, "like the flesh of Men, roasted alive in the most fragrant of rose gardens."  
  
Maggie groaned and spread his legs, and Putridarm, knowing that the younger Orc needed a bit more preparation, reached up to caress a blister the size of a human heart before plunging his claws into it, letting the fluid run down to coat Maggie's hole, and gathered the remainder in his palm to slick his thick cancerous cock. Maggie, already alert from the shock of the cut, tensed further at the feel of Putridarm' cock nudging his hole. Putridarm bent forward to kiss his back.  
  
"I won't hurt you, baby. I love you," he said, curling a hand around to insert a claw into the slit of Maggie's weeping cock. (Due to Orc anatomy, this is okay. Also, Orcs are into pain.)  
  
Maggie instantly relaxed and Putridarm surged forward, past the tight ring of muscle to be sheathed in Maggie's hot, tight ass. Putridarm pumped--one, twice, three times, came, screaming Maggie's name, and collapsed, spent, on his lover's back. Maggie, overcome with the feeling of Putridarm's STDs entering his system, climaxed, silently but ecstatically.  
  
Months passed, and Maggie's belly grew rounder and rounder beneath his ragged, bloodstained clothes. He began to worry about who would take care of the child while he was off pillaging. He began a search for a nanny.  
  
At first, all the responses were completely unsatisfactory. Too many bedsores, took three minutes to remember first name, things like that. Then the final potential nanny entered the glow of Maggie's fire, and he instantly knew this was the one.  
  
Dieta was six feet of hulking pustules and he dressed in the oddest clothes, covering the entire body. At first, Maggie didn't understand, but then he realized--Dieta was wearing the clothes of a female elf. Dieta had been a nun, he said, but was thrown out of the church for being too rambunctious. He liked to sing.  
  
This diversity, Maggie decided, would be a wonderful way to raise a politically correct child.  
  
Another month passed, and Maggie gave birth, via regurgitation, to a beautiful baby boy--blond hair and a cherub's face, green skin and tumors the size of walnuts. As he had been told in a hallucination three nights ago, Maggie called his name "Jesus," meaning, in the ancient Orc tongue, "I can play bass with my genitals."  
  
"Hello, Jesus," Dieta whispered to his new charge, "I'll be your mistress tonight." And Dieta promptly went about sexualizing Jesus at far too young an age.  
  
Sadly, as Jesus grew, he found himself the brunt of many jokes from his fellow Orcs. This was largely due to his being significantly uglier than any of the other Orcs, as blond hair and green skin just do not matching. After a particularly nasty, though in no way erroneous, comment questioning his parentage, Jesus ran away.  
  
Dieta, having fallen hopelessly in love over the years, followed him. He followed Jesus across the hills of the USSR, through Mordor and Gondor, past Rohan into St. Petersburg, never losing track of the lad due of the bright star above his head. When Dieta finally found his charge, tweaked out and turning tricks on the wrong side of the tracks, he pulled Jesus to his plague-ridden feet, and stole him away from a lucrative, nontaxable income.  
  
"You've been a bad, bad boy," Dieta hissed, "You'll have to be punished."  
  
Once they were off the streets of St Petersburg, firmly into Orc territory, Dieta took out a cat o nine tails and gave his charge a severe lashing.  
  
"Please, nanny, don't!" cried Jesus, holding back his sobs, "I'll never run away again!"  
  
Dieta's resolve wavered for a moment, then solidified. He found a large tree and tied Jesus to it with the stems of roses, loosening the bindings only after he had staked the boy firmly to the wood. Jesus began to harden.  
  
As he did, he felt something cold against his side. It tickled, and Jesus tried to hold in a laugh. The laugh turned to a moan as Dieta turned the spear so the point dragged against his skin, and Jesus gave a short, shocked cry of passion when the spear plunged into his side.  
  
It was then that Dieta realized that when Jesus said, "Forgive him, Father, they know not what they do," what he really meant was, "Suck it, mofo."  
  
A week later Jesus woke in a cave, pregnant, his lover and master by his side. He pulled Dieta into a searing kiss.  
  
"Baby, I love you as much as I love the taste of elves boiled in their own blood, flavored by their own feces."  
  
And they all lived happily ever after, except for Sam, who died of a venereal disease acquired while raping Maggotface.  
  
The last pages are for you, Sam.  
  
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Author notes:  
  
In loving memory of Joseph Stalin  
  
Alternate titles: ORC+ORC=OTP , To Squick As Nothing Has Squicked Before  
  
Personal Challenge: mpreg, incest, hurt/comfort, first time, Mary Sue, Jesus Saves, out of the closet, bizarre au, bdsm, make Jim vomit.   
  
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End file.
